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09-26-2024, 04:52 AM
(This post was last modified: 09-26-2024, 04:53 AM by Quixilated.)
My friend asked me if there is “a single solitary metaphor or description of crying that has not been overused?”
I thought, “Challenge accepted!” and then came up completely blank. I even tried to google it, but the internet only gave me the most basic and cliche metaphors in existence. Perhaps I don’t know how to google things. This is not the point.
The point: does any one know of, or can anyone come up with, a new metaphor or description for tears/crying that both does a good and accurate job, but also feels new and interesting? Surely there is a non-rain/river option out there?
The Soufflé isn’t the soufflé; the soufflé is the recipe. --Clara
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The crowds gathered in mourning around my iris before one by one walking away
Peanut butter honey banana sandwiches
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(09-26-2024, 04:57 AM)CRNDLSM Wrote: The crowds gathered in mourning around my iris before one by one walking away
Wow, that was a fast response! And that is definitely one I have not seen before.

Ok, so you win a prize I think.
The Soufflé isn’t the soufflé; the soufflé is the recipe. --Clara
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Not an easy exercise. This might make a good prompt. A little freedom to roam and who knows? someone might nail it.
Cake on the way for CRNDLSM.
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On seeing his despair, liquid empathy
collected in a corner of my eye
before escaping.
Non-practicing atheist
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09-26-2024, 10:52 AM
(This post was last modified: 09-26-2024, 10:56 AM by RiverNotch.)
As it's only good hygiene to flush a cunt
with a douche, I flush my cheeks
with tears.
Okay that might seem directed at folks, but I assure you, it's only because I've been watching too many drag queens recently xD
Speaking of which....
damn mascara
getting into my eyes again
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Humid Reflection
Pondering ghost child
the young get the tallest grave.
Humid reflection
past taken pictures
history is forgotten.
Photographer cried.
Only one thing is impossible for God: To find any sense in any copyright law on the planet.
--mark twain
Bunx
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notes dripping
from the guitar
-- splashing on the ground
wae aye man ye radgie
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Tears would be the icing on the cake for someone who wants to make you cry. Happy tears even
Peanut butter honey banana sandwiches
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sadly, George Harrison (and possibly earlier?) beat you to this one
Magpie dateline='[url=tel:1727328862' Wrote: 1727328862[/url]']
notes dripping
from the guitar
-- splashing on the ground
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A question within the question. Aren't some of these similes? I'm confused. I know it's a fine line.
(09-26-2024, 09:43 PM)RiverNotch Wrote: sadly, George Harrison (and possibly earlier?) beat you to this one
thousand
apologies
to you Sir
wae aye man ye radgie
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Living sadness brings
melting icicles in spring
it's how I miss them
Only one thing is impossible for God: To find any sense in any copyright law on the planet.
--mark twain
Bunx
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The density of my death parts the waves of my what now?
The very filter of my necessity, uncurtains in valves of promiscuity.
O Fountain of Safety, dry up, and drip in angry assortments of people's feelings
the don't give a shit coolness that
would make Anna Delvey like me ---
for audacity,
not mine,
but drips
dripping
wet
there is no sadness in the rejection.
Tears cry like burps. Farts the feeling of which are not dry
but love of what is and will not be.
Death.
A rotting corpse -- not dry
Cake and Too
for River Phoenix Not
There is a toss
that awakens a magic bean,
an acre of wall around
a dry thing
that becomes
a series
of liquid
fluidity;
an acre of wall
around a dry spot.
This spot,
a genius,
a captain of land,
opens a mansion,
a retard of and.
God is a ghost,
nostalgia defined.
Wet as a retard. Words
Trans- aligned.
I am wet;
I am angry.
I don't exist
at all.
Like some unruly celebrity,
my existence is a fall.
Sin
is stupid:
I'm not,
are you?
My tears are dry
as a dead cunt
in my dead imagination
cuz there is no such thing as a dry Imagination.
There is not real death
when a poet is masturbating.
God is a pilgrim.
Sanitation is what?!
Alf is an '80s Icon,
two twin buttocks are a butt.
Nostalgia, a God in no pants,
no genitalia, no gust
of wind
positing anywhere.
I cried just now based on nostalgia of '80s cartoons nobody
heard of but how certain brown chairs at people's tables look kinda damp,
whether the people are old or not. Like some people your age, you know.
Cuz they are living in the houses of the people who were old and lived there in the '80s and '90s,
and now social-culture is Liquid Modernity.
cum and pussy juice is cool still taboo
and there are a few women under 20/over 50 that I would have sex with,
when the Law suits THEM